darlin' everything's on fire
by no white horse for me
Summary: It was never Camille's intention to hurt Steve. She just thought it might hurt Logan.


__**TADA! This has been in the works for ages! And it is actually one of the longest one-shots I've ever written, closely following 'fire hazard'. The end kind of skips a bit and there's kind of a huge shock at the end of the letter, so unless you figure it out, watch out!  
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**Full Summary: The truth had always been something Camille Roberts had a hate/love affair with. But she knew, from the moment that her and Logan made eye contact, she was gone. So dating Steve is kind of a bad thing. Steve's a sweet guy, and she knows it, but he's not _her_ kind of guy. So she writes all of her troubles (and the truth) into a letter that Steve will get when she's gone. And even though Steve loves her, he really hates her now. Because her heart was never his. It was always Logan's.**

**Please review!  
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_Dear Steve,_

_So, it's me, Camille. You probably already figured that out. You told me that you could recognize my writing out of a million girls. Just like you told me how you could recognize my eyes and hair out of that same number. I remember when you said that I scoffed, but now I believe you. But, this is where the complication comes in. Because even if you can see me in a crowd of a million girls, I can't see you in a sea of a billion boys. You must know that by now. You've got to know that by now._

_You told me you loved me the other day. That's why I'm writing this letter – it's things I'll never be able to say to you in person. That's what I did when I let Connecticut to move to LA: I wrote my best friend a letter, left it in her mailbox, and the next morning I was gone, jetting off to a whole new world, a new fantasy. She called me that night in tears, you know. Hah, of course you don't know. How would you? I haven't told you a little bit of my past in the time we've been dating. _

_Some girlfriend I am. _

_You'll hate me when you finish this letter, I know. And maybe even now, you've figured out what's going to be written at the end. You always knew me pretty well. But, see, another complication: boyfriends are supposed to know their girlfriends better than they know themselves and vice versa. You didn't know me, Steve. And I sure as hell didn't know you. That's more my fault than yours, though. I never gave you a chance, never let you in, and never let you slip into my heart even though I really know you wanted to. Because my heart was still shattered. _

_When you told me you loved me down by the pool, in the Cabana, with this adorable smile on your face and your head buried in my neck, your soft lips tickling my neck, my breath hitched. You were romantic, and funny, and sweet, and those little chocolates you left hidden in my room after Prom were adorable. But, another complication (they just keep popping up, don't they?), you didn't make my heart race or make my breath speed up a little bit, and you didn't make my palms sweaty and you didn't make me trip and stumble over my words. And when you told me you loved me, I know you expected me to say it back. But instead, I got off your lap, looked at you, and bolted for it. _

_I didn't run because I didn't love you – even though I don't – and I didn't run for it because I was nervous – which I wasn't; you just don't have that effect on me. Truth is, I ran for it because I was scared. You're probably laughing right now, because Camille Roberts, scared? No way! But I was scared, scared and fearful because I knew once those three little words – eight little letters – passed my lips, there was no going back. I'm good at running, right? I know you were watching me – hell, everyone was watching me – and I didn't look back that day._

_I've never told you (what have I told you?), but the roof is my safe haven. I went up there when Logan broke up with me because I kissed James, I went up there when Logan told me I wouldn't be getting him back the night that you and I saw Kiss and Tell, and I go up there every time I get shot down for yet another role. _

_So, in short, I go up there a lot. _

_It's beautiful up there – you can see almost all of Hollywood, even the huge sign, and on clear, starry nights, I like to pretend I can touch the sky. But I always come tumbling down. But you can't get up there unless you know how to pick locks, which I don't think you do. I can get up there because I stole a set of Bitters' keys to see which doors they opened. They open the pool and the roof, by the way. Anyway, when you told me you loved me and I ran for it, I went up to the roof and just cried in the corner. I rocked back and forth for almost an hour and the tears didn't stop that entire time. I felt like such a baby. You know, I hate crying. I really do. And not because I look terrible when I do it, but because it makes me feel weak and small and babyish and dammit, I am not!_

_I'm rambling. I do that when I get nervous, have you noticed? Of course you have, you've probably documented everything about me in a little notebook kept under your bed with a picture of my face on it. Don't worry, that's not creepy. I did it with my first boyfriend who I was pretty sure I was in love with (his name was Matt, and he had the deepest blue eyes you could imagine) but then he went and cheated on me with my best friend and I realized it was a fling. You know, whatever. Another complication for you to note down: you've documented and marked everything about me down, but the only thing that I can remember of you is that you have brown hair, brown eyes and a really cute smile. That's it. _

_You hate me now, huh? Camille Roberts, the evil bitch who broke sweet Steve's heart. And you can curse my name and do all that type of stuff, but I'm past caring, really. So you can hate me, and you can wish for me to be run over by a bus or eaten by a shark or something, but I don't care. This is a really long letter, as I'm sure you can tell, and when you saw it slipped under your apartment door, you probably wondered what it was, probably hoped it was the confession of my undying love for you. _

_Sorry to break it to you, but it's not. It's actually the complete opposite._

_This ridiculously long letter that I'm writing to you is the truth. It's something I should have told you from the moment I first asked you to Kiss and Tell. By now, you must have figured out that when I invited you that night, it was because I wanted to rub it in my ex's face, right? You hate him, I know you do. Especially at Prom. You looked like you wanted to strangle him with his microphone chord. And then I was pretty sure you were about to burst into flames when he whisked me away to the bathroom so I could play along with another one of his little plans. Those boys have some dangerous ideas, let me tell you. _

_You know, Steve, Logan actually tried to sabotage our chances of winning Palmwoods King and Queen. He and James went to Aubrey Stewart's house and asked her, and Logan did it because he wanted them to win and he didn't want me to be anybody else's princess but his. He said, in what of his manic rush I could catch, 'I can't date you if you're already someone else's princess.' I blushed so freaking dark when he said that I almost blended with my dress. _

_You know, I hate that dress. It made me feel like such a priss, like a princess, and when you told me I looked beautiful when you picked me up from my apartment, I really appreciated it, but I still felt icky and fake and I missed my normal dresses and leggings. But when Logan told me I looked beautiful, I believed him, and I felt light headed and dizzy, and all of a sudden I loved that dress. Even though I was only supposed to 'borrow' it from the store and then return it, I begged my dad to let me keep it. It's still in my closet, just waiting to be worn. And this is gonna sound really cheesy, but sometimes I just put it on when I'm home alone, crank up 'Nothing Even Matters' and dance. I'd spin and spin and spin until I could barely stand and I'd scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs. For those few moments, I was on top of the world. _

_Ooh, ooh, I just remembered something! _

_You ready to know something that will probably break you in two? I'm not doing this to be a bitch; I'm doing this to keep to the theme of this letter: truth. So, are you ready for the kicker, the heartbreaker, the part that will rip you in two and make you either want to scream, cry, curse my name, or just laugh like a maniac? Well, here it is: _

_I'm not a virgin. _

_That's right. I gave myself up to Logan on Prom night. It was pretty late, after the whole mix up. James and I had gotten back into our respective outfits and I'm pretty sure someone spiked the punch because I was pretty tipsy and dizzy and you were pissed off with me beyond belief that you just said goodnight and walked out the door of the hall without a look back. I was sitting by myself at a table, downing more and more of the punch because it tasted really good, and the room was starting to spin faster and faster, and then it kind of stopped when Logan walked up to me. _

_I hadn't realized I was shivering – actually, the whole world was a blur – but when it finally skimmed back into focus, Logan's jacket was draped around my shoulders, an arm was around my waist, his other hand gripping mine, and he was leading me very slowly and gently back to the Palmwoods. I remember I tripped about three times, and almost face planted a fourth before Logan thought that it was ridiculous and just scooped me up and carried me up to my apartment. I was giggly and drunk and I was pointing at everything and screaming in laughter. I even pointed at Bitters' glass stapler and thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen._

_Logan must have remembered where I kept the spare key to my apartment, because all of a sudden I was on my lounge, a blanket was being pulled up around my shoulders, my shoes were set neatly next to my bed, and Logan was saying goodnight to me. _

_That was when it all kind of began._

_I hung onto his arm desperately, my nails digging into his skin. I could barely keep my eyes open, but some little voice was whispering, 'don't let him go, don't let him go,' so I didn't. He turned to me with confusion in his eyes, and I whispered, "Don't go, please." He just stared at me for a moment before he knelt next to me, laced his fingers with mine and said back quietly, "What do you want me to do?" _

_I didn't have a clue what I was doing, I wasn't really in the right space of mind, and the colours of my apartment were blurring into one big blob, but he was still very crisp and clear to me. So, without even thinking, I told him firmly, "Kiss me." _

_His eyes got so wide it was a wonder they didn't pop out of his head. "W-what?" He stammered, tilting his head closer to me, as if he hadn't heard me clearly when I knew he had heard me perfectly fine. I repeated my statement, and he just stared at me, before he cupped my cheeks and brought his lips to mine. Honestly, it felt like I was some drug addict who hadn't been able to get a shot until now. I clung to him like a baby and didn't let him go. He nipped neat little paths down my neck and seemed very satisfied with himself when I moaned in pleasure. He pushed the blanket off me and crawled on top, continuing his taunt. I remember feeling overwhelmed, because this was a Logan that I had never seen before – he was brave and outgoing. _

_And that dress that he loved oh so much, he practically ripped it off with his teeth and chucked it into a corner before continuing his descent. When we were both fully naked, he hovered over me for just a moment, a bold new gleam in his eye. "I thought you liked that dress. You told me I looked beautiful in it." I practically whimpered, because already I was aching for him – already I was feeling like a druggy cut off. He just smirked his familiar smirk, leant down, trailed his tongue from the base of my neck to the hollow of my ear and then whispered in the sexiest, most seductive voice I had ever heard, "You do look beautiful with it on. But you look so much better without it." _

_The rest of that night was a blur of colours, of nails scraping down backs and moans of pleasure, and him hissing my name and me murmuring his name into his palm. When I woke up the next morning, already the guilt was settling in heavy because I had a boyfriend (you) but then I rolled over to face him on our enormous couch, and he was already awake and smiling at me, his eyes alight. "You don't regret it?" He asked of me as he brushed a curl away from my cheek. I didn't even hesitate with my answer. "No chance in hell." _

_So, there you go. My full story of the Prom-that-rocked-it-all (see what I did there?) and while I felt guilty for a while because you were my boyfriend and I wasn't supposed to have feelings for Logan anymore, that didn't really work out well, did it now? I made love to him instead of got over him. Whoever wrote my life story must think that this is the funniest thing they've ever done. _

_Steve, by the time you get this letter, I'll be well and truly gone, out of your life, boom. You'll never see me again unless I become famous, because I'll be sure to stay away from you. Where am I going, you ask? Well, dear naïve Steve let me tell you where I'm going, and why you'll never see me again as long as I can help it. _

_Logan and I, as cheesy and movie worthy as this will sound, are running away. Tonight. _

_We're going to get on the first plane out of here to Minnesota and we're going to live out the rest of our lives there, where we'll have two children named Xavier and Amanda, and we'll live happily ever after. _

_No, we won't, really. Because that stuff only happens in Disney movies. And my life, no matter what it is, is no Disney movie. Maybe by the time you read this, I'll be already gone. I hope that's how it'll be. I don't think I'd ever be able to face you if you found this before I was gone. And I'll be gone, Steve. Gone, and I'm not coming back. But I'm not going to Minnesota, or anywhere like that, and I'm not going with Logan. _

_But, before I sign this letter off, because it's actually the longest letter I've ever been bothered to write by hand, I'd like to apologize. Because my life is a big, fucked up mess. By kissing James, I lost the one thing that really mattered to me. By dating you, I hurt the one thing that mattered most to me. When I gave myself to that one thing that really mattered to me, and he didn't even bring it up after that night, except for a few small smiles that he would shoot my way, I hurt myself, cut myself deeper than I ever thought possible. So, along with the truth, this letter is my way of apologizing. I hope when I'm gone, you and Logan can put this stupid little feud over me aside and at least become friends. But you're both ridiculously headstrong, so I don't think that's ever going to happen. _

_I really hope you can forgive me. What I'm going to do, I'm not going to regret it. I can promise you now that I won't regret it. But I'm not just begging for your forgiveness about what I'm going to do. I'm apologizing because you gave me everything you had, and I took it and smashed it on the ground with Logan's favourite hockey stick and then proceeded to do a tap dance on it. You were oblivious, of course. I noticed how you'd become whenever I walked into the room – your eyes would glaze over, and you'd watch me with this love drunk expression. And while it was cute at first, eventually I just wanted to tell you to knock it off because it was creepy. _

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. And I mean it._

_I never meant to hurt you, honestly. Hurting you was never on the agenda. I didn't want to take everything you had and smash it on the ground like I did. But you must have figured out from the moment at the movie theatre that my heart belonged to someone else. I know you saw me stop and look at Logan. I wanted to run back to him. I wanted to fling my arms around his neck and kiss him with all I had. But I was with you, and I wasn't going to embarrass you that way. I may be a bitch, but I'm not that much of a bitch. _

_You were my play toy. You know that. I know you know that. I never loved you, not all of me at least. Maybe a little piece of me did, but just a little bit. But all of me belonged to Logan – from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. And I know that eventually, all 6 of you will forgive me – you, Logan, Kendall, Carlos, James and Lucy– because I know that you'll feel guilty. That's not my aim, to make you all feel guilty, but I know you will. And you'll miss me. And I'll miss you too, believe me. So please forgive me, and try not to hate me too bad because who knows where that will send you._

_My intention was never, ever to hurt you, to scar you or burn you or break you or shatter you like I did. I never wanted to see you crumble like you did, and like you will when you see this note after. I won't regret this. I can't regret this. I'll feel happier after, I know. That's what everyone believes, anyway. Leave your problems behind you and just keep going, hey? So don't mourn me for too long – 3 days is my maximum mourning period – and then I want you to get on with your life. Understand me? Damn well hope so._

_And this is where I leave you. This is where I say goodbye, for forever and always (oh, I'm also a huge Swiftie. Please give Lucy my Speak Now CD. I know she'll love her) and I won't be returning, at least in a way that you'll see me. So, goodbye. Tell the others that I love them and that I'll see them soon. I've written Logan a letter too, but his isn't as nearly as long as yours believe me. So, I guess I'll see you on the other side. _

_My intention was never to hurt you. I just kind of hoped it would hurt him._

_Lots of love, __**Camille.**_

STEVE

Two weeks later, Steve Calen returned to his apartment at the Palmwoods. His face was blotchy, he had a massive headache, and in his hand was about 5 pieces of paper scrawled with writing. As he stumbled toward the roaring fireplace he had left on before he had put on his best suit and gone out into the freezing snow to say goodbye to the woman he loved, more tears blurred his vision. But he ignored them and watched the flames lick up the grate. And then, without even pausing to think, he threw the wad of paper into the fireplace and walked into his room, where he slammed the door and sobbed.

But just before the paper dissolved completely, you could see, just faintly, a scribble of the word 'Camille' and a single quote that rang in Steve's ears.

'My intention was never to hurt you. I just kind of hoped it would hurt him.'

Bit too late to backtrack now, huh? Steve was already burnt.

JAMES

His hand shook as he wiped away at invisible tears. The funeral was over, over half an hour ago, but he couldn't force his feet to move. All he could see was Camille's body in that polished wood coffin, her hands laced in front of her chest, holding a single white rose. She looked beautiful as always, and she was smiling, just slightly. It tugged at the corner of her lips and made James feel ill.

She had committed suicide with a kitchen knife in her own apartment, alone. And when she did it, she was wearing her prom dress.

They had taken it off of her, of course, and wanted to throw it away, but the 'Final Will and Testimony of Camille Roberts' said, quite simply and plainly: 'And to my older brother, James Diamond, I would like to give my prom dress and my corsage. That night was a blast. Thanks.'

James stared numbly down at the bundle in his arms, and could have sworn, only if you squinted, just down the chest of the beautiful dress, you could see teeth marks.

CARLOS

He snuck out of the apartment the night after her funeral.

He jumped in the BTRMobile, and drove away, without a look back or a reason. He weaved through the streets covered in snow and shivered slightly when the icy wind touched his cheeks, turning them a bright pink. He pulled up in front of the cemetery he had been at only a day ago. He clambered over the locked fence and walked along the rows of marble and concrete, bearing little letters that told of people's past. He wondered whose dreams had been crushed by being here. He knew Camille's had been.

When he reached her huge marble headstone that looked like an angel with its wings spread out, he dropped to his knees in the freezing cold snow. He traced those 14 letters with a shaking fingertip and cleared the snow off of the huge headstone. "I think I might hate you." He said quietly, spreading his hand over it. "But I know that I love you. You're my baby sister. And now you're gone." A single tear traced a line down his cheek and fell with a plop onto his knee.

"It seems kind of movie worthy, huh? Committing suicide because of a boy. Like a modern day Romeo and Juliet, yeah? You loved that play, I remember. You were so pissed when you didn't get the audition for it. Bet those directors are really regretting it now." He laughed humourlessly, pressed the heel of his hand into his eye and pushed away the tears.

"I should probably go now, or the guys will wake up and have a panic attack." He rose shakily to his feet but didn't move further than that. "Promise you'll save us a spot up there, Millie?" He suddenly burst out, and then gasped and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Promise you'll save all of us a seat next to you, Angel?" And without a second look back, he turned on his heel and walked away. He fiddled with something in his pocket – a dark red pen that was Camille's, the one that she used to use for scripts. She had left it for him in her Will.

But, as the wind whistled through his ears, and the snow settled around him, he was pretty sure he heard a voice carried through the wind, so soft it almost wasn't there.

_Yes. I promise._

KENDALL

Kendall watched the ceiling fan in his room spin around and around and around. He felt dizzy and sick, but he knew it wasn't from the fan that whirled overhead. His face was puffy and red and splotchy and there were nail marks down his arms and face. Katie and his mom were yelling about something, but he could tell that Katie wasn't giving it her all – Camille's death had hit her just as hard as everyone else.

"KATIE KNIGHT YOU GET IN THAT ROOM AND TRY TO HELP YOUR BROTHER NOW!" He heard his mother scream, there was a loud crash and a scream, and then Katie's voice.

"Don't you see, Mom? He doesn't _want_ help! He doesn't want to get over her! She was his best friend!" Katie's voice broke and Kendall winced. "He doesn't want to be healed, Mom. He just needs time to get over her."

A heavy silence settled over 2J.

Katie was right. He didn't want to be helped or healed just yet. He just needed time to come to terms with the fact that his beautiful Camille had committed suicide and had left nothing behind except what the boys had gotten from her. Jo didn't get anything, but Kendall knew why. Camille had written in her Will to her blond ex-best friend, 'Jo, I'm not giving you anything because you didn't give me anything. You stopped calling me after about 3 months and haven't talked to me since.'

Kendall turned his head slightly to look at Camille's gift to him, the one thing that she said he could keep as a reminder of her. It was her favourite book series, _The Hunger Games_, stacked on top of each other. He'd never read them, because he had skimmed over them before and seen her writing on almost every single page, with little notes that were addressed to him because she knew he'd get confused about some of them. And she had also said in the front of the first one, 'Kendall, these books are my gift to you, but if you damage them, I will have to kill you.' He didn't doubt her.

He knew that he'd get over her eventually, but they were like brother and sister, and they loved each other the same way. She could always make him smile, and he seemed to have a knack of making her scream in laughter by just wriggling his eyebrows. It was going to be an uphill battle, but he'd eventually get over her death, and maybe those damn books that were staring him right in the face were the key that would help him.

So, he sat up, picked up the first one and began to read. But not before he noticed another note scribbled right above the first page of the first chapter.

'Knew you'd pick it up :). Promise they'll help. Don't forget me.'

Like he could ever.

LUCY

Lucy's grip tightened on her steering wheel as she drove through the frozen streets of LA. She didn't even know it snowed here. That was one of the reasons she had moved to sunny, balmy Hollywood – to become famous and to get away from the ice and cold of her home town. But she didn't care at that moment. She was listening to Taylor Swift, a girl who Lucy had called 'cute' but she didn't 'rock'. And she had promised herself she'd never listen to her.

But here she was, in her car, listening to the Speak Now album cranked at full volume, singing along with every word. It had been the one thing she had been listening to for the past 3 weeks. The CD had been her one wish to have from Camille, who had begged her to learn every word because Camille knew that Lucy would love it. And she did, kind of.

At a stop light, Lucy turned the music down just a little bit and then cranked it up at full volume when she heard her name. 'Hey Luce, it's Camille.' The rocker's eyes widened to tennis balls and she shook her head, sure she was hearing things, but the voice on the CD continued talking. 'If you're hearing this, then it means you're listening to Taylor Swift. She's great, huh? She's my idol, you know. Anyway, you probably hate me. And you have every right to. I committed suicide – you should want to spit on my grave and do a tap dance. And you might just.

'I kind of hate me too, you know. I left everything I loved, everyone I loved in a heartbeat. But I'm not going to tell you why because you wouldn't understand. You know I'll always be there, even if you can't see me. I'll always catch you when you fall. Even if you can't see me, I'll keep you safe, I promise. And you know I don't break my promises.' Tears were now pouring down Lucy's cheeks as she listened to her best friend talk to her, her voice soft and calming. 'I'm going to go. I love you Luce, and don't ever forget it.' There was a moment of silence, and then Camille's voice again, 'Oh! Please keep the streaks in your hair. I always liked them, and it'll make it easier for me to look out for you. Byee!' And this time, when silence descended, it wasn't broken by Camille's melodic voice, but by another song.

This one started off with a few depressing notes, and then Taylor Swift began to sing. 'Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.' Lucy didn't care that the light had turned green, or that cars were beeping at her as they passed or that people were yelling swears at her. She couldn't give a damn. She just put her head down against the steering wheel and cried and cried and cried until there was no more tears left to shed, until she felt shattered and weak and broken down. But one of the lines from the 'Safe and Sound' song was ringing in her ears.

_Don't you dare look out your window, darlin' everything's on fire._

LOGAN

He was the one who found her. He was the one who found her curled up on the floor wearing her prom dress, her throat slit and a smile on her face. He had screamed and cried and begged her to wake up, begged her to get up because this wasn't funny, it wasn't a good practical joke. But she didn't move. She was ice cold, her lips were blue, and there was dried blood caked under her fingernails. Logan, who had always wanted to be a doctor, suddenly felt ill.

When her dad had returned home, he found Logan clutching a dead and still Camille close to his chest, sobbing, singing to her and rocking her back and forth. Logan had put up a damn good fight when Mr Roberts tried to take Camille from him – he had screamed and yelled and begged and broken down again into tears. When he had woken up again, he was in a hospital bed with nurses and doctors prodding and poking him, Mrs Knight standing in a corner, calming down 3 hysterical boys and a sobbing Katie.

When Logan lay eyes on Katie, whose small form was shaking with the force of her tears, he knew immediately she was gone. Logan had begun to shout and howl, pushing off nurses and doctors, and he almost knocked out Mama Knight. And suddenly, someone had jabbed him with something sharp, and he wasn't there anymore. He was floating far away in a dream.

And now, as he sat in the pool area in Camille's favourite Cabana, rocking back and forth and playing with something in his hands, and with people handing out their condolences, he ignored them. He felt broken down, weak, shattered, heartbroken, like someone had taken a hockey stick to his chest. And then the wedge was driven in deeper when a shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Steve staring down at him, his eyes ringed in red.

They just stared at each other in heavy silence before Steve suddenly spoke, his voice harsh from lack of use. "She wrote me a letter." Logan just blinked and waved a piece of paper in front of his face. Steve laughed bitterly. "Mine was about 6 pages long. Told me everything, told me everything about her past, about what went down between you two. And you know, I kind of knew it all along." Steve smiled and just stared at his feet. "It was never me that she loved. It was always you. Always you. And I know that you love her. And as much as it hurts to say, I'm okay with it." He suddenly stood up and turned to Logan with heavy brown eyes. "I just hope that you know I hate you. All of me hates you. Every single fibre of my being hates you. And I know I really don't have a right to, because she loved you first and not me, but it doesn't matter. I still hate you." Steve turned to go but Logan's voice suddenly stopped him.

"She loved you too." Logan's eyes were quickly filling with tears. "She loved you, I know she did. But she just…didn't love you as much. When you asked her to prom, I wanted to strangle you with my bare hands. I wanted to cut you up with a machete. But I saw how happy she was when she danced with you, and I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to kill all that happiness that you gave her." Tears were falling now, like soldiers off to battle.

"We both hate each other. Camille loved you more than she loved me. And I loved her more than anything I've ever known. This is fucked up." Steve snapped, and then suddenly walked away without a look back. Logan watched him go and then glanced down at his hand, in which was sitting the thing Camille had given to him in her will.

It was her lucky charm bracelet. There were only two charms on it – an L and a hockey stick. The tagline with this present for him was:

'To Logan, I give my charm bracelet. He was my lucky charm, and I hope that those two little things on it will bring you as much luck as they did to me. I love you, remember. Follow your dreams. Don't be afraid to fly.'


End file.
